1 For some reason they were nicknamed memory holes.
2 The old man's memory was nothing but a rubbish-heap of details.
3 All that was needed was an unending series of victories over your own memory.
4 Only the Thought Police would read what he had written, before they wiped it out of existence and out of memory.
5 He tried to squeeze out some childhood memory that should tell him whether London had always been quite like this.
6 Then, without uncovering it again, he dropped the photograph into the memory hole, along with some other waste papers.
7 But that was merely a piece of furtive knowledge which he happened to possess because his memory was not satisfactorily under control.
8 Where the Lottery was concerned, even people who could barely read and write seemed capable of intricate calculations and staggering feats of memory.
9 The date had stuck in Winston's memory because it chanced to be midsummer day; but the whole story must be on record in countless other places as well.
10 It was a wild, impossible notion, to be abandoned as soon as thought of; but the room had awakened in him a sort of nostalgia, a sort of ancestral memory.
11 But the curious thing was that while he was doing so a totally different memory had clarified itself in his mind, to the point where he almost felt equal to writing it down.
12 It was curious that the fact of having held it in his fingers seemed to him to make a difference even now, when the photograph itself, as well as the event it recorded, was only memory.
13 Or to bang his head against the wall, to kick over the table, and hurl the inkpot through the window--to do any violent or noisy or painful thing that might black out the memory that was tormenting him.
14 Then, with a movement which was as nearly as possible unconscious, he crumpled up the original message and any notes that he himself had made, and dropped them into the memory hole to be devoured by the flames.
15 His mother's memory tore at his heart because she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return, and because somehow, he did not remember how, she had sacrificed herself to a conception of loyalty that was private and unalterable.
16 And when memory failed and written records were falsified--when that happened, the claim of the Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted, because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard against which it could be tested.
17 When one knew that any document was due for destruction, or even when one saw a scrap of waste paper lying about, it was an automatic action to lift the flap of the nearest memory hole and drop it in, whereupon it would be whirled away on a current of warm air to the enormous furnaces which were hidden somewhere in the recesses of the building.
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